


Family Affairs

by Warp5Complex_Archivist



Category: Star Trek: Enterprise
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-18
Updated: 2006-03-17
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:26:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warp5Complex_Archivist/pseuds/Warp5Complex_Archivist
Summary: When Enterprise is in Earth's orbit for a few days of shore leave, Trip, T'Pol and their newborn son go to visit Trip's parents. While on Earth they have to face the hostility and prejudices still existent in the human society of the 22nd century. (04/17/2004)





	1. News And Letters

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Kylie Lee, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Warp 5 Complex](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Warp_5_Complex), the software of which ceased to be maintained and created a security hazard. To make future maintenance and archive growth easier, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but I may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Warp 5 Complex collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/Warp5Complex).

There was no romantic candlelight dinner. There was no warning at all. T'Pol just looked up from her reading when Trip entered their quarters that evening and said: "I am pregnant." Then she concentrated on her book again.

Trip sat down hard on the bed, staring at her. For once he was at a loss for words, feeling faintly sick.

"But," he said. "But."

T'Pol looked back up to him and on her face there was no expression at all. "But what, Charles?" she asked.

"But...you're pregnant?"

"I believe I just said so. How was your day?"

"What?"

She raised an eyebrow. "I said 'How was your day'."

"Routine...up until now. I never noticed today was April 1st."

"It is the 3rd of July. Are you feeling alright, Charles?" T'Pol gave him a look of genuine concern. "Are you not interested in what Dr Phlox said?"

He felt as if all his intestines had suddenly disappeared. "So...so you're _really_ pregnant?"

But there was no need to wait for an answer. T'Pol was Vulcan. Jokes were not her style. And Trip felt that he couldn't stay a minute longer. He had to run, had to tell someone that he would be—was—a father, that there would be aâ€”

* * *

"Charles Tucker IV." Archer grinned. "Funny name for a Vulcan. And what if it is a girl?"

Trip was sitting on Jon's bed, absentmindedly scratching Porthos behind the ears and trying to stop his hands from shaking. He had run from his quarters, leaving his very confused Vulcan wife behind, and come straight here. It had taken a while for Archer to find out what was wrong since Trip had been stammering uncontrollably about proud fathers and April-fool jokes but after a while he had realized what Trip was trying to tell him. Now it had been Archer's turn to sit down. He had been stunned at first, but then the image of Trip pushing a baby carriage down Enterprise's hallways had come to him and that was when he had started laughing. He hadn't really been able to stop till now.

"I'll name her Mathilda, after my granny." Trip looked up. "What's so funny?"

Archer shook his head. "I just can't get used to the idea. A baby! Well, what did T'Pol say?"

"I thought she was joking first. I think I scared her."

Archer tried and failed to suppress a chuckle. "I'd say she scared you. Your mom will be thrilled to hear the news. Are you going to call home today?"

Trip flinched and accidentally poked Porthos in the eye, who gave a yelp and hopped off his lap. He swallowed, trying to sound casual. "Tomorrow, I s'pose."

Archer nodded and gave him a pat on the back. "Well, congratulations, old buddy. You'd better get back to your quarters now or T'Pol will think you jumped out an airlock."

Trip grinned weakly and got up. "Yeah, I'd better. See you later."

* * *

Two weeks later, Trip was sitting alone in his quarters, reading the first line of his letter for the umpteenth time. He had been sitting there for about an hour and all he had written yet was 'Dear Mom and Dad'. The words were beginning to blur before his eyes. Impatiently he shook his head and tried to concentrate. It shouldn't be that hard to tell your mother that her long-awaited grandchild ...well, wouldn't look exactly as she expected.

"Well, Mom, he definitely won't have my ears," Trip murmured. He remembered his visit to sickbay last week. Curious and a little anxious he had asked Dr Phlox to describe the effects of a Vulcan/human DNA combination.

"Oh, I've been awaiting that question, Commander. Since Vulcan genes are dominant, your son is going to look pure Vulcan on the outside. The insides, however, are another story." And Dr Phlox launched into a lecture about the interesting organic differences between a pure Vulcan and a human/Vulcan hybrid, but Trip wasn't really listening. Dr Phlox's statement about 'pure Vulcan on the outside' didn't really surprise him, but it reminded him quite bluntly of his current problem. There was no way of hiding the alien origin of his son. And there was no way of telling his mother that her grandson was half Vulcan.

If only I wasn't such a damn coward! Trip thought frustrated, staring down at his letter. Those damn letters. Of course he had written his parents about his marriage four months ago, how happy he was to have found such an intelligent, beautiful wife. He had told them everything—how much fun the wedding party had been, how Malcolm had insisted to kiss the bride; he had even given them a thorough description of the wedding cake. But he had not written T'Pol's name.

And he had carefully avoided every allusion to her origin and her...well, being Vulcan. He couldn't imagine his mother's reaction if she found out her son had married an alien woman. He remembered her first letter in which she had ranted on about alien crewmembers serving on Enterprise. Then he had found it rather funny, if slightly annoying, not taking it seriously, but now he knew he had a real problem. He felt bad and ashamed for himself for his unspoken lies, especially since he hadn't told T'Pol about it. She hadn't made a secret of the fact that he wouldn't be welcomed by her family on Vulcan, while he had left her believing that his family, if grudgingly, would eventually accept her. To tell the truth, he hadn't said much at all, changing the subject at the first opportunity.

And here he was, having to tell his mother that he was going to be father to a son she would never even allow in her house. He came to a decision.

'I know it's been a while since my last letter', he wrote, 'but there has been a lot on my mind lately. I'm sorry I'm a little late, but anyway, here are the news (maybe you want to sit down now): I want you to know that I'm going to be father to a son. I know this is very happy news, but there is something about my wife I haven't told you yet; I think the time to do so has come. I hope this won't change your feelings.'

He hesitated, re-reading the last sentence and shook his head. Of course it would change their feelings. His mother's feelings, anyway. He didn't really know about his dad. Sighing, he deleted the last sentence, considered, and removed the sentence before as well. Maybe he could tell them later in an extra letter, so as not to spoil the good news just now. Probably that would be best, he thought, and continued:

'Everything's fine, the doc says, and we're both very happy.' Trip paused. S'pose we are, he thought and continued typing.

'We haven't decided on the name, we hadn't really time to talk about that yet. We were pretty busy lately, but I promise, as soon as Enterprise gets near home we'll come for a visit.'

I'm sure this won't happen for at least five years...Quickly he pushed the thought aside.

'Well, I think I have to give you some time for yourselves now to get used to the idea of being grandparents. I'll keep you updated. Take care, say hi to everybody, love, Charles'

Trip leaned back in his chair and re-read what he had written. You are such an asshole, he thought disgustedly. Neither his mom nor his dad had deserved this, and T'Pol least of all. Just as he was reaching for the delete button, the door swished open and T'Pol entered.

"Good evening," she said in her usual dignified tone of voice. Today, however, her stiff formality didn't amuse him, but only made him feel even more nervous than before. Trying to block the screen from view, Trip turned around in his chair.

"Evening, honey."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow. "Do you still have work to do?"

"Um, yes.." He shifted uncomfortably on his seat.

"Are you setting up the duty roster for next week?" she said, walking over to his desk. He tensed. The idea of her seeing that rotten letter was unbearable. Before he knew what he was doing he had hit the send button.

"Just finished," he said getting up and switched off the screen. "How're you feeling tonight?"

"I am rather tired," she said. "I think I will 'call it an evening', as you like to put it."

"Call it a day, honey," he said smiling. "Good night, then."

He watched her disappearing in the head, then he sat back down in his chair. He gave the screen a look of utter contempt and buried his head in his hands. After a while he got up and went to bed too, but it took him quite a long time to fall asleep.


	2. Pregnancy

Trip took a big cup of black coffee out of the resequencer and put it down on his otherwise quite empty tray. Turning around he looked for an empty table, but as usual at breakfast time the mess hall was crowded. His eyes fell on Hoshi sitting alone at a table over at the window. She looked up and waved, signalising him to join her.

"Morning, Hoshi," he mumbled, setting his tray on the table and plonking down in an empty chair.

"Something wrong?" she asked, raising her eyebrows.

"I'm fine," he sighed. It's only that I've been sharing quarters with a pregnant Vulcan for three month now, he added in thought, taking a big gulp of his coffee. Hoshi eyed him slightly concerned.

"Where's T'Pol?" she asked.

"She's...er...not feeling well this morning."

"Ah," Hoshi said knowingly. "Of course." Trip gave her a questioning look.

"What month?" she asked smiling.

Trip frowned. "October, why?"

Hoshi rolled her eyes.

"I know. That's not what I meant."

"Oh," he said. Then his eyes widened with realization. "Oh!" He cleared his throat. "What gave you the idea?"

"I have eyes and ears, Trip. It's kind of obvious. To a woman, at least," she added as an afterthought. Trip sighed.

"So did you tell Malcolm yet?"

"What should she have told me?" Malcolm sat his tray down on the table. Trip slumped back in his chair. Hoshi grinned.

"Trip's going to be a father!"

"What. You?" Malcolm sat down, giving Trip a dumbfounded look. Trip slid down even further in his chair, trying to disappear under the table.

Hoshi chuckled. "Well, it happens when people are married."

Malcolm blushed. "I know that. It just...took me by surprise."

Hoshi turned back to Trip, still smiling like a Cheshire cat.

"So, how long have you known?"

"Three months," Trip murmured, not looking at her.

"What, three months?!" Hoshi exclaimed. "Why didn't you _tell_ us?"

Trip got up.

"T'Pol didn't want me to. I have to get down to engineering, so if you will excuse me..." He grabbed his coffee and fled from the table.

"Poor Trip." he heard Hoshi's voice as he pressed the button to open the mess hall door.

"He'll understand," Malcolm answered. "After all he's been pregnant, too."

Trip took another big gulp of coffee and grimaced as the hot liquid burned his tongue. It was going to be a long seven months until May.

* * *

"The effects of pregnancy on Vulcan women are similar to the typical symptoms and behaviour patterns human women will show." Dr Phlox sounded as enthusiastic as he always did, but Trip thought he had heard a slightly amused undertone in the Denobulan doctor's voice. It's not funny, he retorted in thought, but said nothing. The doctor smiled innocently and continued.

"There are, however, a few important differences. While human women do experience an increased need to take food, it is nothing compared to what Vulcan women go through during the ten month of their pregnancy. Due to the increased production of certain hormones they experience a feeling as if they were starving to death unless they are able to keep up a more or less uninterrupted consummation of food. In Vulcan's ancient past, resources were sparse and pregnant women had the choice between fighting for every scrap of food they could get or losing their child because of the lack of nutrition. So the body found a way of reminding the mother-to-be that there was an unborn child she had to take care of. In our modern times the mother's determination to obtain all the food she can get sometimes leads to certain...disagreements between her and the persons she lives with."

Trip sighed. "Tell me about it, Doc."

* * *

The temperature in the Captain's dining room had been increased so it would be comfortable for a Vulcan, but that was not the reason Trip was sweating. He picked at his plate of meatloaf, carefully avoiding to look at Jon. Gone were the times when the three of them had used dinner to have extended conversations, to discuss their mission or just to chat about everyday life on Enterprise. Now there was no time to talk anymore. T'Pol was eating and eating and eating, while Jon and Trip tried to grab some of the food before T'Pol got hold of it. Trip had never noticed how fast she could eat. He'd lost four pounds in the last twelve weeks.

Trip heard Jon make a strange noise between a cough and a snort and finally raised his eyes. There were four plates standing in front of T'Pol. One was filled with some spicy, dangerous-looking Vulcan vegetable and a neat stack of pancakes with maple syrup. On another plate there was a huge pizza with extra cheese and—Trips stomach gave a lurch—covered in french fries. Half of the pizza was gone already. One of the other two bowls contained plomeek soup of quite a strange colour. Trip noticed the ketchup bottle standing next to the soup bowl and swallowed. T'Pol however took no notice of the two men staring at her. She was currently engaged in the act of dipping celery sticks in strawberry marmalade and mustard and saw nothing except her food. Trip hoped desperately that she would have finished at least that horrible pizza and the ketchup-plomeek when the steward came in again.

Jon cleared his throat.

"So did you finish the sensor updates you were working on with Malcolm?" he asked T'Pol in a brave attempt at conversation. T'Pol in the meantime had finished off the celery sticks and moved on to the pizza, cutting it into neat slices and soaking them in plomeek soup. There was no sign that she had heard Archer's question at all. Under the table, Trip nudged her with his foot. T'Pol looked up.

"Why are you kicking me, Charles?" she asked through a mouthful of plomeek pizza. Trip looked pointedly at the Captain, but she didn't notice. She had seen the plate of pecan pie standing next to Trip's meatloaf. Calmly she reached over the table and plunged her fork dripping with ketchup deep into the pie. Shoving the pecan pie into her mouth she took another slice of pizza and drowned it in the mustard. Trip stared at his pecan pie covered in ketchup and resignedly pushed the plate over the table towards T'Pol.

"You can have it if you want, honey."

"Thank you, Charles," she said, letting the pie follow the pizza. Archer downed half his glass of water to quell the laughter bubbling up his throat. Trip shot him a glare.

"I might find it funny too if I still had my pie," he mumbled sourly. Archer coughed, putting his glass down.

"You can have half of mine," he said.

Trip shook his head. "I don't think so."

Archer looked down. The only thing left of his pecan pie was an empty plate and a few crumbs. Trip kept his eyes fixed on his meatloaf, a blush creeping up his cheeks. Archer got up.

"I have to...go to the bridge. Trip, Subcommander..." He rushed out, trying and failing to keep his laughter under control until the door had swished shut behind him. Trip sighed.

"That was the fourth time."

Between a piece of pecan pie and a spoonful of plomeek soup T'Pol raised an eyebrow at him.

"What are you referring to?"

"You know perfectly well what I'm referring to. That was the fourth time you stole the Captain's dessert. The fourth time this week. It's getting to be a little embarrassing, you know."

With a last swig of soup she finished her meal and looked up.

"He had had enough, and I was still hungry. It was the logical course of action. If you will excuse me now, Charles, I will go and see what the crew had for dinner." She left the room and Trip buried his face in his hands. A few minutes later the door swished open.

"Is she gone?" Archer asked. Trip groaned.

"There is no food left in here; no point in staying, is there? Sorry about your pie."

"I'll live." Archer grinned. "No harm in losing a few pounds, you know." Miserably, Trip looked up at his friend.

"I can't take it any longer, really I can't! D'you know what she did yesterday? First I couldn't find her anywhere. Then I went looking in the mess hall and there she was, of course. On the way out we passed Travis who was eating a sandwich..." Archer tried to keep a straight face.

"And then?"

"She took it! She snatched it right from under his nose and left, and I was standing there having to apologize while the whole mess hall went into a laughing fit. It was so embarrassing! I've heard that the science lab staff hide their food before she comes for her shift. Remember that huge bar of chocolate Hoshi gave me for my birthday? It was gone in five minutes. When I asked her to share it, she said she needed it and couldn't afford to give me any. It is absolutely no use arguing with her. That woman drives me crazy!"

Archer sat down on the chair next to Trip.

"Dr Phlox said it's normal. Remember how you felt when you were...er..."

Trip gave him an indignant look.

"I didn't steal other people's food!"

Archer bit his lip. "That's true. But it can only get better, can't it?"

Trip grimaced. "Can't it?"

* * *

"Another aspect of the Vulcan mother's protective instinct is an increased hostility towards her environment. You may have noticed already, Commander." Trip shot Phlox a dirty look, but the doctor went on undeterred.

"While human women usually show similar symptoms, the aggression of the Vulcan women is especially directed towards men. The reason for this fact is unknown, but we can assume that it has something to do with Vulcan's violent past. There is no actual physical danger because of the high level of emotional control today's Vulcans have reached. Nevertheless I would recommend a certain...caution when interacting with the mother."

Trip massaged his temples. "Thanks for the warning."

* * *

Archer leaned back on his bed and opened his book. It had been quite a stressful day and he was glad to have some time for himself. Porthos hopped on the bed and snuggled in the crook of Archer's arm.

"Hey, old boy!" Archer scratched Porthos behind the ears. "Been feeling lonely, have you." Porthos curled up in his arms and Archer concentrated on his reading.

Few minutes later the door signal chimed. Archer sighed and put his book down.

"Come," he said. The door swished open and revealed his science officer.

"Subcommander," he said, slightly surprised. "Is there something I can do for you?"

"Indeed, Captain." T'Pol entered his quarters.

She looks tired, Archer thought. T'Pol's face was paler than usual, and there were dark circles under her eyes. It was hard to believe but she seemed to have lost weight. Only her belly had grown, and her uniform was fitting tightly around her midriff. Archer motioned to the chair at his desk.

"Please, sit down."

As usual, she perched on the very edge of the seat, crossing her legs. She put down a padd on the desk in front of her and fixed Archer with a piercing look.

"I have come here to inform you about some serious shortcomings in protocol which have come to my attention in the last few weeks."

Archer set Porthos down, trying to hide a smile.

"Really? What problems have you noticed, Subcommander?"

She checked her padd.

"First of all, I believe that not everybody on this ship is working at peak performance. The efficiency quotient has decreased from 96.78 % last month to 95.14 % according to the last approximation two days ago."

"Oh. Did it?" Archer tried to look appropriately concerned.

"I believe I just said so." An icy undertone crept into T'Pol's voice.

"Further I assume that efficiency could be improved by putting a stop to the so-called 'chatting' and 'small talk' on duty, especially on the bridge. While off-duty I do not think it appropriate to engage in excessive shouting and laughing in the public areas of the ship, for example the mess hall. Sometimes the noise level is unbearable. Speaking of the mess hall, I do not approve of the great amount of meat served there. Additionally- "

"Whoa, stop there." Archer held up his hands. "I know it must be hard sometimes, but this is just part of everyday life on a ship with a human crew. See, maybe you're just tired and a little stressed out. It's been a long day for all of us. You know what I do when I feel really beat? I take a good hot shower- "

"Speaking of that," T'Pol interrupted him, raising one eyebrow, "I do think that there should be Starfleet regulations on the topic of—"

The doorbell chimed and Archer was glad to be spared an answer to what would have undoubtedly been her next objection.

"Come in," he said, turning his head. In the doorway stood Trip, looking slightly disheveled and short of breath. He noticed T'Pol sitting at Archer's desk and his eyes widened in dismay.

"You didn't, did you?" Without waiting for an answer he strode over to the desk and picked up her padd. "I told you to get rid of that! Really, honey, this is nothing short of ridiculous."

"Trip!" Archer got up and put a hand on his friend's shoulder. "It's ok, no harm done. Maybe you both want to go to your quarters now, get a good night's sleep and we'll talk tomorrow."

"Very well." T'Pol got up and without looking at either of them, she left. Trip wanted to go after her, but Archer caught him by the arm.

"Don't be mad at her. She didn't mean it, she's just a little beside herself."

Trip gave him a long look, then nodded and stepped out into the hallway. T'Pol was standing at the end of the corridor waiting for the turbolift. She had her back to him and didn't turn as he came closer. For a moment he thought she was crying, but no, of course not. T'Pol didn't cry. He put an arm around her waist and turned her around gently, but she wouldn't meet his eyes. There was absolutely no expression on her face, and still she looked so tired and defeated that Trip felt immediately guilty for yelling at her. He put his arms around her.

"I'm sorry," he whispered. "Sometimes I say things I could kick myself for later." He reached down and put a hand on her belly. "You've only been there for six month and you're already tiring your mother out."

Finally she raised her eyes and there was a tiny smile on her lips.

"Let us go back to our quarters, Charles. I think it would be best to follow the Captain's advice and get some rest."

While they wandered through the dimly lit hallways, Trip thought of the letter from his parents which had come this morning. It had been full of questions about the baby and complaints that he didn't write more often. But the one thing that had stuck with him was the question why he wrote so little about his wife.

'We don't even know her name,' his mother had written. 'Is there something wrong?'

He could picture the familiar little frown on her face as she put down the words. Yes, he thought, there is something wrong, Mom, but not what you think. Your son's a damn coward, that's what's wrong. He knew that this was the point where he should finally tell her, that he should have told her long ago, but he knew just as well that he wouldn't.

After all these months it was just impossible to find the right words to tell both his parents and T'Pol that he had lied to them for so long. He looked at her sideways and almost startled. In the shadowy corridor she looked even more alien than usual, the contrast of light and darkness outlining her features. Suddenly he felt the urge to put an arm around her. Pulling her close, he tried to shake off his feelings of guilt.

No, he thought defiantly. I know I found something good here and I won't let them take it away.


	3. Mothers And Sons

Trip had never imagined it would be so exhausting. For him, at least. He had always thought the father's part was just to sit outside on a hospital bench chewing fingernails and maybe pacing a little. When Dr Phlox had asked him if he wanted to be present at the birth, he had been surprised at first, but after a moment's thought he had agreed. Now that it was over he was glad he had done so, but during the five hours in sickbay he had once or twice caught himself wishing he were somewhere else.

All in all he had been relieved, though. The last four weeks had stretched endlessly and both he and T'Pol had been tired of waiting, although she never would have admitted it. She had insisted on working her shifts until two weeks ago Archer had put his foot down and had banned her from coming to the bridge.

But at that point she hadn't minded that much anymore staying in her quarters most of the time, since it had become quite a problem for her to wear the tight fitting Vulcan uniform. One evening Trip had entered their quarters to find her sitting at her desk wearing his favorite old shirt he kept for visits to the beach on shore leave. He had resisted the temptation to remind her of the occasion when she had quite bluntly voiced her doubts about his taste in decent clothing as he had come to the bridge wearing that very shirt.

"You look like my aunt Kate in her church dress," he had said instead and had been rewarded with one of her famous drop dead stares.

They had gone to bed early, and in the middle of the night Trip had suddenly woken up to find her gone. First he had assumed she had gone to the mess hall again for a midnight snack, but then Dr Phlox had called from sickbay and asked him in a slightly scolding tone of voice if he wasn't going to keep his wife company while she was in labour. Not bothering to change from his pajamas he had run all the way to sickbay. Skidding to a halt next to her bio bed he had demanded to know why she hadn't woken him up, but she had only raised an eyebrow at him.

"There was no need. You seemed to be quite exhausted tonight, and, being human, you need enough sleep to function properly."

He had opened his mouth and closed it again, knowing it would be no use arguing and had instead listened to Dr Phlox lecture T'Pol on how important it was for a human father to be allowed to support his wife during the birth.

And supported her he had. T'Pol being T'Pol had stayed calm and controlled all the time, but there had been moments when despite her composure she had given him the feeling that he was helping her, after all.

* * *

In the end, when Dr Phlox had let him hold his son for the first time, he had been overwhelmed. He had never thought he would be so tiny.

My son, he thought. I can't believe it. Noticing Dr Phlox and T'Pol looking at him expectantly, he opened his mouth to say something, but what came out was not what he had intended.

"He's so green!"

T'Pol raised an amused eyebrow.

"That's perfectly normal." Phlox gave him a bright smile. "Think of how human newborns look all red. Don't worry, Commander."

Trip blushed. "I didn't mean—"

At that moment his newborn son opened his mouth and began to wail. Gently Dr Phlox took the baby out of his arms and gave him to T'Pol. On wobbly legs Trip moved over to the chair next to the bio bed and sat down. He looked at the bundle in T'Pol's arms and suddenly the baby opened his eyes. They're blue, Trip thought, and he broke into a grin. Lifting his eyes he looked at T'Pol and saw an answering smile on her lips.

* * *

Half an hour later T'Pol and the baby had fallen asleep and Dr Phlox had sent him to his quarters to get some rest. He stepped out onto the hallway and was immediately surrounded by Jon, Hoshi, Travis and Malcolm.

"How did it go?" Jon asked.

"Is T'Pol okay?" Hoshi urged.

"How does he look like?" Travis wanted to know.

"Is everything all right?" Malcolm looked slightly concerned.

"Whoa, take it easy." Trip grinned. "To answer your questions, it went well, T'Pol's feeling a little tired, he's gorgeous and everything's perfectly fine. They're both sleeping now."

"Well, what about the name?" Malcolm asked. "Have you decided yet?"

"Charles Tucker IV?" Hoshi piped up.

"I don't think so," Trip said. "We've decided to call him Sam."

"Sam?" Archer raised his eyebrows. "Didn't T'Pol want a Vulcan name?"

"It is a Vulcan name. We found out that the name exists in both cultures."

"So the name is just Sam?" Hoshi asked.

"It's Sam Jonathan," Trip said with a slight smile. Malcolm and Hoshi both turned to Archer. Jon looked surprised at first, but then a grin spread on his face and he put his arms around Trip, giving him a big hug.

"I'm really happy for you, Trip."

"Me too," Trip said and noticed that somehow he couldn't stop grinning.

* * *

A few days later T'Pol had not yet returned to duty. Well, she would have if Trip had allowed it but this time it had been no use arguing with him, for a change. For the next few weeks Archer had put him on light duties so he'd be able to spend some time with his family.

Right now there were only two hours left of his shift and Trip was counting the minutes. Today it was his turn to bathe Sam and with this prospect in mind the updating of the sensor parameters held no particular lure for him. Shifting in his seat, he looked up. Somehow he wasn't able to concentrate today. Across the bridge, Hoshi was totally absorbed in her work, as usual. Neither Malcolm nor Travis seemed to have taken notice of his fidgeting, and Trip bent back down to his work, determined to finish these damn updates.

The door of the situation room swished open and Archer stepped on the bridge. A few minutes ago he had received a call from Admiral Forrest, and while that didn't necessarily mean good news, this time apparently there had been no bad surprises, either. There was a big smile on Archer's face as he stepped over to Trip's station.

"Tell your parents they're going to see their grandson a lot sooner than they thought," he said cheerfully. "We're going home."

Trip couldn't keep the shock he felt from showing on his face. He felt as if a bucket of ice cold water had been emptied over his head. Fortunately Archer didn't notice his dismayed expression.

"Well, it's no big surprise, of course, since we're en route to Alpha Centauri anyway. Command said if we're only two weeks away from Earth we could just as well drop by, download the gathered data and stay for a few days of shore leave. Now is this good news or not?"

Trip plastered a smile onto his face.

"That's great," he said, trying to sound excited. "Thanks, Jon."

Archer gave him a big grin and sat in the Captain's chair. Trip sat paralyzed. Suddenly the thought he had tried to push aside all these months came back full force. He still hadn't told them, still hadn't written that damn letter.

Trip turned to his station pretending to go back to work, but there was no way he could concentrate now. For the first time in his life he hoped for the warp engines to break down.

* * *

The mess hall was empty when Trip entered, just as he had hoped it would be this late at night. He needed some time for himself, to sort out his thoughts and to decide what the hell he was going to do now. Without bothering to get himself something to drink as he usually did, he took a seat at a table way back in a corner by the window. Staring out at the blurred streaks of the stars passing by, he tried to calm down enough to be able to think of a solution to his problem, but there was only one thought drowning out everything else.

How could he have managed to ignore reality so thoroughly? He was trapped; he had to tell T'Pol he had let her down, that he had been too much of a coward to stand up to his mother and he had to tell his parents that he had lied to them for more than a year. The image of his little son came to his mind and he felt a deep contempt for himself. He buried his face in his hands. Just then the door swished open and he looked up, startled.

It was Malcolm, with a padd in his hand. Trip made no sound and hoped that the Armoury Officer would leave without noticing him, but no such luck.

"Can't sleep, Commander?" Malcolm took his tea out of the resequencer and came over to Trip's table. Sighing inwardly Trip motioned for him to sit down.

"Not really, no. What are you doing here in the middle of the night?"

Malcolm pointed at his padd.

"I still have some work to do.

"Now?" Malcolm shrugged and took a sip of his tea. For a while they sat in silence, then Malcolm suddenly looked up from his padd.

"You're not really looking forward to going back home, are you?"

Trip raised his head in surprise.

"What gives you the idea?"

"It was kind of obvious, you know." Malcolm smiled slightly. "Today on the bridge," he added at Trip's questioning look. "You didn't look exactly thrilled when you heard the news."

"You're right," Trip sighed. "Actually I'd rather avoid going home for the next fifteen years."

"I don't think our dilithium supplies will hold out that long."

Trip forced a smile. Several moments of silence followed.

"Your parents don't approve of your marriage with T'Pol."

Trip gave Malcolm an astonished look, but the Armoury Officer just looked back with no particular expression on his face. Obviously there was no use in denying the truth anymore. Miserably, Trip shook his head.

"They don't even know."

Malcolm blinked. "They don't know you've married?"

"They do know I've married, they just don't know who."

"You didn't tell them?"

Trip shook his head, not looking at Malcolm. "I couldn't. I just couldn't find the words to tell her I've married ...someone like T'Pol. She would never understand."

"Your mother?" Malcolm asked quietly.

Trip nodded. "She's always been like that. She's not a racist, really. She just hates it when people break with tradition, when things are done differently than they have been done for hundreds of years. And she won't forgive me for not living up to her expectations."

"Ah," Malcolm said. A world of understanding lay in that one syllable.

"If the neighbours ever found out, it would be the death of her. You can't imagine how the gossip gets around in that fucked-up backwater place. In a town where they talk about it for years when you haven't been at the Thanksgiving service, she'll never live it down if it becomes known that Susan Tucker's son has married a Vulcan."

A short moment of silence followed.

"What would happen if you told them now?" Malcolm asked finally.

Trip shook his head. "I don't know. I truly don't know."

"Perhaps..." Malcolm seemed to struggle for words. "Perhaps it would be best just to confront them with the situation. If you just showed up with T'Pol and the baby without a warning. To see how they react. Perhaps..." He trailed off.

Trip looked at him and nodded slowly.

"Perhaps that would be best."


	4. Unexpected

Susan Tucker opened the cupboard and rummaged through its contents. It had to happen, she thought, that she would run out of sugar now of all times. Charles had said they would be arriving at the Miami station at 13.15 pm, so she reckoned it would take them four hours to get here. That left her with only two hours to get everything ready. She hoped Charles' wife liked pecan pie, but then, Charles would never marry a girl who didn't love pecan pie. Susan smiled. But without sugar there would be no pie. Grabbing a cup from the board, she crossed the kitchen and opened the back door.

I do hope it won't take too long, she thought as she headed towards the neighbour house. I really don't have the time now to listen to Nancy's endless stories. She hadn't even knocked on the door when Nancy already opened.

"Hello Susan! Isn't your son coming today?" she asked peering over Susan's shoulder. Without waiting for answer she continued: "Look at that! I bet Jake Miller came home drunk again yesterday night. Seems like he's still sleeping it off, the bedroom shutters are still closed!"

"Hi Nancy," Susan said, deliberately not turning to look. "Can I borrow a cup of sugar? I haven't had the time to go shopping yesterday."

"Sure. Come in." Nancy took the cup from her hand.

"No, thanks," Susan said, glad to have an excuse this time. "I don't have much time at the moment."

Nancy raised her eyebrows, but disappeared into the kitchen without another word. When she came back with the sugar, she had a false smile on her face.

"I don't know why you're in such a hurry. Being on time was never Charles' strong side, was it?"

Susan took the cup from her hand. "Thanks," she said and turned to go. She didn't have to look back to know that Nancy would be watching her until the back door had closed behind her.

While she put all the ingredients for the pie on the kitchen table, she felt the familiar flutter of anticipation she had felt in her stomach all day come back full force. Only two hours until her son would be home for the first time in over three years and—she still couldn't believe it—bringing his wife and son with him! It was strange to think of herself as a grandmother.

The news about the baby had been just as much of a surprise as the short message about his marriage he had sent over a year ago, and just as vague and impersonal. She really didn't know what to expect today. Charles' wife was probably a nice girl, she supposed, and quite smart, judging from the little he had written. Why Charles had so adamantly ignored all her questions about his wife and the baby, she couldn't understand. That was not like him, not at all.

Maybe the great responsibility he had to live with as Chief Engineer of this ship had changed him. She had never been sanguine about his decision to join Starfleet, anyway. When he had been assigned to that new warp five ship that was on the news all the time, she had been really worried. She had heard there were even a few aliens serving on that starship. She shuddered at the idea of having to interact with such beings on a regular basis.

Shaking her head she tried to get rid of these unpleasant thoughts. In less than two hours her son would be here, together with her daughter-in-law and her little grandson! She smiled and got back to work.

* * *

After they had arrived at Miami central station, it took them only ten minutes to find a place where they could rent an aircar. With Sam safely stowed away in the child seat in the back they set off for the highway.

Trip was glad that the transport down from Enterprise hadn't taken as long as he would have expected it to. Together with the rest of the senior staff he and T'Pol had been on one of the first shuttles that had left Enterprise for the Houston spaceport. Before they had left for Houston Central Station, Malcolm had quietly wished him good luck, which had only increased his anxiety.

His hands felt clammy and he had a hard time to keep them from shaking as he operated the controls of the aircar. He looked sideways at T'Pol, who looked very dignified and impressive in her light brown Vulcan robe. She didn't seem to be aware of his nervous restlessness.

He couldn't possibly keep it from her any longer now.

"T'Pol," he said, his voice sounding hoarse, "there's something I haven't told you..." She turned to look at him.

"Concerning what, Charles?"

He swallowed. "My parents. They..." He trailed off. He just couldn't bring himself to admit what he had done. Or better, what he hadn't.

"They do not know that I am Vulcan," T'Pol calmly finished his sentence.

Trip startled. "How do you know?"

T'Pol just looked at him, and Trip was astonished to see an amused glint in her eyes.

"You are my bondmate," she said. "Of course I would know."

Trip bit his lip. "And?" he asked after several moments of silence had passed.

"And what?"

"Well...aren't you angry?" He kept his eyes fixed on the road.

"I do not presume to judge your actions. I do not know enough about the terms of conduct in human families to know if it was possible for you to act differently."

"Oh," Trip said after a moment. "Well, I could have acted differently. I should have, actually."

"There is no need to explain. Kaiidth."

Trip concentrated on the controls again. He was still feeling far from confident, but T'Pol's wordless understanding was kind of reassuring.

* * *

Trip parked the aircar in the driveway. He looked sideways at T'Pol.

"Maybe it'd be best to leave Sam in the car while we...er...say hello."

T'Pol nodded and they got out of the aircar. The old farmhouse looked peaceful in the sunlight of the late afternoon. Nothing had changed since the last time Trip had seen it except a small tree on the front lawn which looked as if it had been recently planted.

The silence was interrupted when the front door flew open. Tears were running down her face when Susan Tucker came down the steps. Before Trip could say anything she had her arms around him and was hugging him tightly.

"Charles! It's so good to have you home."

Trip stroked her back. "It's good to see you, too, Mom."

Looking over to the house he saw his father standing in the doorway. He had that familiar lop-sided grin on his face and when Trip met his eyes, he raised his hand in a silent greeting. Gently he released his mother, who turned away for a moment to wipe the tears off her cheeks. Trip took a step backwards and motioned for T'Pol to come closer. She had been waiting a few steps away to give them some privacy. Trip put an arm around her shoulders and faced his mother.

"Mom, this is T'Pol. My wife."

Susan turned to T'Pol, a smile on her face—and froze. T'Pol bowed her head slightly.

"It is an honor to meet you, madam."

Shock written all over her face Susan took a step backwards.

"No," she said, not taking her eyes from T'Pol. "No." She stepped back even further, stumbled and would have fallen if Trip hadn't caught her arm.

"Mom—"

"This isn't true! It can't be true! You wouldn't—" Her voice faltered. She yanked her arm free, turned and ran back to the house. On the way up the front steps she almost stumbled again, but caught herself in the last moment. Then she was gone. Trip felt the immediate urge to go after her, but then his eye fell on his father, who was standing there looking a little forlorn, a mixture of shock and surprise on his face. This was most unusual, since Charles Tucker II hardly ever showed any emotions. But at least he hadn't run away. Trip took a deep breath.

"T'Pol, this is Charles Tucker. My father. Dad, this is T'Pol."

For a long moment his father just stood there, looking at her. Then, as if he had come to a decision, he stepped forward and stretched out his hand.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, T'Pol." T'Pol hesitated, then she took his hand and shook it carefully. Trip had never seen her shaking hands with anyone before.

"I am honored, sir."

A moment of awkward silence followed, then Charles Tucker turned to his son.

"Maybe you'd better go inside and look after her." He looked at T'Pol and there was a slight smile on his face. "I'll entertain the ladies in the meantime."

That remark was so typical of his father that Trip smiled despite himself. With a grateful nod in his direction he headed towards the house.

* * *

He found his mother in the kitchen. She stood at the window with her back to him. From the way her shoulders were twitching he could see that she was crying, although she made no sound. He stepped closer, but didn't dare to touch her.

"Mom," he said quietly. She didn't turn around.

"Go away."

Tentatively he laid a hand on her shoulder. "Mom, please..."

She shrugged him off. "Don't you touch me!"

He stepped back and sat down on a chair at the kitchen table. For several moments he stared at her back, not knowing what to say.

"Won't you at least talk to me?" he asked finally.

A short stretch of silence followed, then: "What do you want to talk about?"

Trip sighed. "If you'd hear me out, maybe—"

She turned around.

"Why does it suddenly matter so much to you what I say? You didn't find it necessary to tell us anything, and now you just show up here with that...with that woman, and you have the nerve to ask me to hear you out?"

He forced himself to meet her accusing stare.

"Look, Mom. I know I should've told you, but I just couldn't find the right words to explain all this in a letter."

The excuse sounded weak even to his own ears. She just shook her head and turned away. Trip bit his lip looking down at his hands. After a few moments he raised his head.

"Won't you at least come out to see your grandson?"

She spun around again, eyes blazing with fury.

"That child is no grandson of mine! How can you do this to me, how dare you bring her here! You've brought shame over the whole family by marrying that alien, that unfeeling...thing!"

Trip jumped up from his chair.

"Don't you talk about her like that! You don't know her, or you wouldn't say such things! I love her, Mom!"

"You're crazy!" she yelled back through her tears. "How can you even bear to touch her, let alone—"

"Listen to yourself!" Trip was shaking with anger now himself. "What's wrong with you? Are you afraid of what will happen if the neighbours find out, are you afraid for your reputation? Is that what it is?"

Susan went white in the face.

"Go," she said. "Take your wife and your bastard son and don't you ever come back here again."

Trip stared at her for a moment. Then he turned away, walked out of the kitchen, out the front door and down the steps.

"We're leaving," he said to T'Pol and without looking at his father he went down the driveway to the aircar. With a last polite nod at Trip's father T'Pol followed him and got in as well. Neither of them said a word as he steered the aircar down the street, not looking back.


	5. Decisions

The silence continued. Outside the bright sunlight of the afternoon was beginning to fade away. Trip stared straight ahead, trying to clear his thoughts. T'Pol didn't try to talk to him, she just sat there with her hands folded in her lap. After a while she turned to the back seat and covered the sleeping Sam with a blanket, tucking him in tightly to keep him warm.

Trip looked at the face of his little son in the rear-view mirror and suddenly felt a deep regret. Regret that he had brought them here, that he had neglected to tell his parents the truth and such had caused the whole situation. But most of all he regretted that he had hurt T'Pol who undoubtedly had heard every word his mother had said today. She might not blame him, but she didn't have to.

There was no way Trip could forgive himself for what had happened.

He never noticed when they passed his old elementary school next to the only hotel of the town, he just kept his eyes fixed on the road. They passed the last houses on the outskirts of the town and he kept driving on. On both sides of the streets there were meadows now, glinting in the light of the evening sun.

After a while T'Pol turned her head.

"Where are we going?" she asked quietly so as not to wake Sam.

"Nowhere," Trip said. "I don't know."

"Maybe we should look for a place where we can spend the night."

There was no accusation in her voice, but her statement made him feel even worse just the same. It was his fault they had nowhere to stay. Pulling up at the side of the road, he stopped the aircar. Letting his hands fall in his lap, he leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

"Charles," T'Pol said after a few moments of silence. "I am sorry."

He opened his eyes and looked at her, astonished.

"What do you mean?" he asked. She raised her eyebrows.

"It is my fault that your mother will not allow you to come into her house again."

"Your fault?" He stared at her, then turned his eyes away. "Of course it's not your fault."

"But I am the cause of the...disagreement between you and your mother."

Trip shook his head.

"Nonsense. This whole situation was caused by my cowardice and her prejudices. Not by anything you've done."

"If I was human—"

Trip looked up sharply. "No. Don't even think that, T'Pol. Do you think I secretly wish that you were? Do you think I want you to be any different than you are? I admit, I was afraid to tell them, but certainly not because I'm somehow ashamed of you. It's just that I'm such a damn—"

She put a hand on his arm.

"Charles. Do not blame yourself. It is a difficult situation. I do not know what I would have done in your place."

He looked at her and smiled sadly. Suddenly he felt the need to hold her close, to feel her right beside him. Wrapping his arms around her, he pressed his face into her hair. The familiar spicy scent was helping him calm down, making him feel better.

This very moment Sam woke up from his sleep. He stirred restlessly, opened his mouth and started to wail. Reluctantly Trip released T'Pol. Reaching in the back he groped around for the pacifier.

"He's awake," he announced unnecessarily.

"I noticed," she said. "He needs to be put to bed soon."

Trip nodded, turning back to the controls. "There's this little hotel in town. We can stay there for the night."

"That is acceptable." T'Pol leaned back in her seat and Trip started the aircar.

As he drove back, he looked at the peaceful scenery around them and somehow he felt relieved. No matter what had happened today, at least it was over now, and there was no need to keep any secrets anymore.

* * *

"One room, please. If it's possible with a couch or something, where we can make a bed for the baby."

The clerk at the reception counter, an elderly man with grey hair and eyes, looked him up and down, then nodded.

"As you wish, sir."

He put two key cards down on the counter and smiled thinly at Trip.

"Number 106 for the gentleman and number 108 for the lady." He glanced at T'Pol out of the corner of his eyes.

A sudden anger welled up in Trip.

"I said _one_ room."

The clerk gave him a long look, reached under the counter and produced another card.

"Thank you very much," Trip said icily. Without another look at the man's derisive smile he grabbed the card and picked up Sam's carrycot.

When they entered their room Sam began to cry anew. T'Pol rummaged through her bag and pulled out a diaper.

"I can do that," Trip said, taking it from her. She raised an eyebrow but didn't say anything. He smiled a little at her doubtful expression.

"I'll manage. I'm Chief Engineer, remember?"

"Very well." She disappeared into the bathroom.

She must be really tired, usually she wouldn't let me do this, he thought, spreading a blanket on the bed. He took Sam out of his cot and carefully laid him down on the blanket. Peeling off the third pair of socks he smiled slightly remembering the discussion he'd had with T'Pol shortly before they had boarded the shuttle. Despite his assurances that in Florida the weather was indeed quite warm in May T'Pol had insisted on wrapping Sam up in all these layers of clothing ("It is cold on Earth and he has Vulcan body temperature," she'd said and there had been no use in arguing).

"It's nice to be able to move again, isn't it," he said to his son, taking off the dirty diaper, rolling it up and putting it aside.

After he had cleaned Sam up he picked up the fresh diaper and paused. Examining it, he turned it over and frowned.

"You have to seal the diaper in the front," T'Pol called from the bathroom.

Trip raised his eyebrows and looked at his son. "I hope someday you'll be as smart as your mother," he said.

When Sam was changed properly, Trip threw the old diaper into the waste basket and sat on the bed beside his son.

"Hey, little man," he said, watching as the baby happily kicked the air with his little feet, obviously enjoying his freedom. Sam's arms and legs had grown rounder in the last few weeks, and his face, far from being green and wrinkled as it had been on the day of his birth, reminded Trip of T'Pol's face more than ever, except for the bright blue eyes. If it hadn't been for the delicately pointed ears he would have looked almost like a human baby.

Trip looked up as T'Pol came out of the bathroom. She had already put on her nightrobe and the yellow light of the ceiling lamp softened her features. He watched her as she gathered two blankets and a pillow and made a bed for Sam on the couch. Then she came over and sat next to him on the bed.

"You alright?" Trip asked, putting his hand over hers. She nodded and silently they watched Sam who seemed to be getting tired. He had stopped kicking his feet and was now just looking at them with bright blue eyes. Trip held out one finger and the baby's hand closed around it in a surprisingly firm grasp.

No, Trip thought. They can't take that away from me.

* * *

Susan Tucker sat at the bedroom window, staring out at the setting sun. It was now three hours ago that Charles had left, and she still couldn't think clearly.

When he had been gone, her husband had come into the kitchen and had tried to find out what exactly had happened, but she hadn't been able to talk to him. There was no way she could have repeated the things that had been said. She couldn't believe that it had come to that, that she had told her son never to come back again. But still the shock of seeing Charles with that woman hadn't worn off. She was devastated when she thought of how her son was ruining his life and she couldn't do anything about it.

She turned her head when the door opened. Her husband came in.

"Are you feeling better?" he asked and sat down on the bed next to her. She looked away, wishing he would just leave, but of course he wouldn't. She swallowed, trying to hold back those damn tears.

"This whole thing...it's so bizarre!" she said and was surprised at how firm her voice sounded. "Tell me why he did that, Charles, because I don't understand. I really don't."

He didn't answer immediately. After a while he sighed.

"I can't tell you that, Susan." He paused. "You know, I talked to her while you and Charles were in the house. She seemed to be quite...nice."

"Nice?" She couldn't believe she had heard him right. "Nice? For God's sake, Charles, she's—"

"She's Trip's wife, Susan. Since over a year."

Susan shook her head, unwilling to think about that.

"What were you talking with her, anyway?"

"I asked her if she'd been to Earth before and she told me she had lived in Sausalito for a while. She's working as Science Officer on Enterprise now."

Susan looked down.

"And did she...did you see the baby?" She hadn't really wanted to ask. The question had just come out somehow. He nodded.

"Yes, I did. I asked her to show me."

Susan swallowed.

"And?"

"I only looked through the car window, so I didn't see much of him. He was all wrapped up."

Susan forgot that she wanted to sound disinterested.

"He was wrapped up?" she exclaimed. "At this time of the year? He could get too hot, it's dangerous to—"

She noticed Charles' smile and broke off. "What's so funny?" she asked, not half as indignantly as she had intended to.

"Nothing," he said. "I was just thinking how strange this is—Trip, a father!"

Susan flinched. She remembered what she had said to her son only a few hours ago, and suddenly she felt ashamed. It must have hurt him bad to hear her say these things. She remembered the stricken look on his face before he had turned his back on her and left. Wrapping her arms around herself as if to protect herself from the memory she looked out of the window again. It was nearly dark outside now.

"Do you think they're back on their ship already?" she asked and the thought filled her with despair. If they were, then she probably wouldn't see her son ever again.

Charles shook his head.

"I don't think so. It was too late to drive back to Miami today. I think they'll spend the night somewhere in a hotel, then drive back tomorrow. After all, the baby has to be put to bed."

Then it's not to late. The thought had suddenly been in her head, and although she tried to dismiss it, it lingered in the back of her mind until she had fallen asleep that night.

* * *

Susan woke up early the next morning. She didn't seem able to go back to sleep, so she dressed quietly, so as not to wake Charles, and went downstairs. She ate some breakfast and decided to go outside to do some gardening. Her roses needed a trim pretty badly ,so she got her shear and set herself to work.

Only a few minutes later she heard footsteps on the garden path. Resignedly she looked up.

"Good Morning, Susan!" Nancy waved cheerfully, coming nearer.

"Morning, Nancy." You're the last person I want to see now, Susan added in thought. She rose as Nancy came to stand beside her.

"What a gorgeous day, isn't it! I see you've finally found the time to take care of these roses! Alice asked me to come over yesterday, so I never saw your son coming. Didn't he stay overnight? I don't see his aircar anywhere."

Susan sighed inwardly.

"He didn't come," she said.

"He didn't come? How's that?" Nancy leered at her expectantly.

"Some problems at work."

Nancy's face fell. Hastily she covered it up with a sympathetic smile.

"Oh, that's too bad! Maybe he'll come next week?"

"Don't think so."

Nancy finally noticed that Susan was being deliberately curt with her. An indignant frown crossed her face.

"Well, then, "she said turning to leave. Susan was already getting her hopes up, but then Nancy stopped in her tracks. She turned back to Susan, excitement lighting up her features.

"Oh, I nearly forgot to tell you! Do you know what I heard just this morning from Lucie? Lucie Miller, whose cousin works at the hotel. She told me that last night this guy checked in at the hotel and you won't believe who he had with him!"

Susan froze. She felt the blood drain from her face, but Nancy continued without noticing her shocked expression.

"It was a Vulcan woman! And do you know what? They had their baby with them! Can you believe that?"

Nancy seemed to expect some kind of reaction from her.

"Oh, really," Susan managed.

"Yes! Terrible, isn't it? It's a shame, really, that such people are even allowed into a decent hotel! And a baby! Isn't that the most disgusting thing you've ever heard?"

Susan had heard enough. Suddenly she was very calm, the shock she had felt was gone. She pulled off her gardening gloves and picked up the shear.

"Excuse me, Nancy. I don't have any more time now."

Nancy gave her an astonished look. "Why? Where are you going?"

"I'm going to visit my son," Susan said. Nancy raised her eyebrows.

"I thought he couldn't come?"

"Actually, he's staying at the hotel. With his wife. And my little grandson. See you later, Nancy!"

She turned to go back to the house, not looking back at Nancy, who stood between the rosebushes, frozen with shock.

* * *

T'Pol was sitting on the couch feeding Sam. Half an hour ago Charles had said he wanted to go for a short walk before they would have to leave for Miami. She had declined when he had asked her to come with him, thinking it might be good for him to have some time for himself. Just when she had been done putting the few things they had needed back into their bags, Sam had woken up, demanding his breakfast.

When he'd had enough, T'Pol got up and while walking around the room she patted Sam lightly on the back until he gave a small burp. Just as she had laid him back down on the couch, someone knocked. She went to open the door. When she saw who was standing in the hallway, she couldn't keep the astonishment from showing on her face.

"Mrs. Tucker." Just in time she managed to control her surprise and took a step backwards. "Please come in."

Reluctantly the other woman entered the room and T'Pol closed the door behind her.

"Is Charles here?" Susan Tucker asked, obviously feeling very uncomfortable.

"No, he went for a walk approximately 32 minutes ago."

An awkward silence followed. As T'Pol watched Mrs. Tucker who was nervously shifting her feet, she remembered what Charles would have wanted her to do now.

"Do you want to sit down?" she asked, motioning towards the only chair in the room. Susan didn't answer. Her eyes had fallen on the couch where Sam was sleeping.

"Is that..." She blushed, although T'Pol could not see why. "I don't know his name."

"His name is Sam Jonathan."

Susan went over to the couch. For a long time she just stood there, looking down at the tiny face between the blankets. Then she turned to T'Pol.

"So you named him after Jonathan Archer?" she asked.

"Yes," T'Pol said. "Captain Archer is his godfather."

For the first time since she had entered the room Susan Tucker smiled.

"He is? That's wonderful. You couldn't find anyone who would make a better godfather than Jonathan Archer."

T'Pol raised an eyebrow at the sudden warmth in the other woman's voice.

"We are honored that Captain Archer was willing to accept the responsibility."

Susan nodded, looking back down at the baby. When she spoke up after a while, she blushed again.

"Can I...can I hold him?"

T'Pol hesitated. Only yesterday this woman had refused even to look at Sam. T'Pol didn't really know what to make of her sudden change of mind. But there was something in her voice which gave T'Pol the illogical feeling that she could trust her after all. Walking over to the couch, she picked up the sleeping baby and carefully placed him in Susan Tucker's arms.

* * *

For about half an hour Trip had been wandering through the streets rather aimlessly, passing all the familiar places he remembered so very well from his childhood. He didn't really look at any of them though, his attention focused on his feelings of loss and guilt. This morning the full meaning of what had happened had come to him and he had realized that this visit had probably been the worst mistake he'd ever made, destroying the relationship between him and his mother completely. He doubted that she would ever speak to him again, and he didn't think he could understand or forgive the things she'd said yesterday.

When he'd decided to follow Malcolm's advice and simply confront his mother with the situation, he'd known she wouldn't like it, that she would be very angry with him, but he'd never imagined it would come to this. It hurt to think of the way she'd talked about Sam, calling him a bastard, saying she wouldn't accept him as her grandson. There'd been utter contempt on her face when she'd told him to leave, and Trip wasn't sure, but for one second he'd had the impression that at that moment she'd really hated him. The worst thing about this was that the reason his mother wouldn't accept Sam and T'Pol probably weren't even her prejudices, but simply the fact that people would be gossiping like mad when they found out that Susan Tucker was related to a Vulcan.

Raising his eyes for the first time in minutes, Trip became aware of his surroundings again and realized that he was only a block away from the hotel where he and T'Pol were staying. Maybe that was just as well. If Trip was being honest with himself, then he had to admit that he'd seen enough of this town to last him for a lifetime. And when they wanted to be at the Miami station in time for the early shuttle, then they needed to get going.

As he crossed the entrance hall of the hotel, Trip deliberately ignored the desk clerk and his colleague who abruptly stopped talking when he passed by, and headed for the stairs. He walked down the hallway feeling relieved that they would be leaving soon.

He opened the door to their room and stopped dead in his tracks. On the couch sat T'Pol, and beside her there was his mother, holding Sam in her arms. They both looked up at him, and Susan's eyes widened.

"Mom." Trip closed the door behind him. "What..." He trailed off, glancing at T'Pol who raised her eyebrows.

"Charles," his mother said, her voice sounding hoarse. He looked back at her and was surprised to see a tentative smile on her face. He walked over to the couch and hesitatingly he took a seat beside her. They both looked down at the sleeping baby.

"He doesn't look like you at all," she whispered after a while. Carefully she touched his cheek and looked up at Trip.

"He's hot. Is he running a fever?"

Trip shook his head. "No, that's normal for him."

At that moment Sam opened his eyes and looked at her. She startled.

"His eyes..."

Trip smiled slightly. "Yes, that surprised me too. Thank God he's got his mother's nose, though."

Susan answered his smile, then carefully looked at T'Pol who met her eyes evenly.

"I think he looks a lot like you. You must be very proud of him."

A short silence followed.

"Yes, I am," T'Pol said quietly. Susan held her gaze for a long moment, then she nodded slowly. Looking back at Trip she said: "I know you have to leave today, but maybe you both would like to...come over later. Your father would be happy, I think." She paused. "And me, too."

Before Trip could react, she handed the baby back to T'Pol, got up from the couch and went to the door. Turning back she looked at them one more time, then she was gone.

Trip stared at the closed door for a moment, then looked at Sam in T'Pol's arms.

"Well, son," he said. "Looks like we're going to give it a second try."

* * *

Epilogue

Trip was sitting at a table in the mess hall, a padd lying beside his plate. He was totally absorbed in reading the report from Gamma shift and never noticed Malcolm until the Armoury Officer put his tray down on the table.

"Good morning, Commander."

Trip looked up.

"Morning, Malcolm."

Malcolm sat down. He took a sip of his coffee and started on his toast.

"T'Pol is off duty this morning?" he asked.

Trip nodded. "We're taking turns in staying with Sam. The Captain said this was better than taking him down to engineering with me. Or to the bridge for that matter."

"Reasonable," Malcolm said dryly. After a moment he put down his cup.

"How was shore leave, anyway?" He tried to say it in an off-handed sort of voice, but Trip noticed the concern in his tone. He smiled wryly.

"Interesting."

Malcolm raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"In the end we were sitting in my parent's living room, eating pecan pie. But believe me, it wasn't easy. The way it started out, I wouldn't have thought I'd see that living room ever again."

"That bad?" Malcolm asked. Trip sighed.

"You bet. That bad and worse. There's one thing my mother and T'Pol do have in common: There's no use in arguing with them."

Malcolm chuckled. "I can imagine it was difficult then. What changed her mind?"

"Sam did. If nothing else, I believe he has at least inherited my irresistible charm." Trip grinned at Malcolm, who rolled his eyes.

"So," he said, "it's a happy end now?"

Trip sighed.

"Not really. I believe there must be a sadist sitting somewhere at a desk in Starfleet Command. Just this morning new orders came in. We're already en route to Vulcan."

Trip looked at his friend who stifled a grin.

"No rest for the weary," Malcolm said.

"Nobody cares how I suffer," Trip murmured. He gave Malcolm a sour look, who just smiled and took a sip from his coffee. Trip sighed again. At least it's quite a long way to Vulcan, he thought, and turned back to his breakfast.


End file.
